Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (16 page)

MANY TIMES IN his life, Kusala had walked the battlements of Balak and Ott, and he knew from memory that the two great walls contained one hundred and fifty trebuchets, each capable of hurling balls of flaming pitch a thousand cubits or more. From outside the fortress, the trebuchets looked like bony insects perched atop the first and second bulwarks.

However, the battlement Hakam, the most enormous wall, was bare . . . except for one large object that was every bit as impressive as a trebuchet. It was the horn named Abala.

Kusala now stood and admired it, knowing that it had been made from the tusk of a mammoth slain in Nirodha in a time long forgotten. Abala, which meant
mighty
in the ancient tongue, stood upon a granite platform on the wall-walk above Hakam’s main gate. It was said that only the king or queen of Nissaya could sound the giant horn. For the breath of any other, it would remain silent.

Neither the passing of time nor the elements seemed able to harm the ancient ivory, but Abala usually remained covered with tarpaulins anyway just to keep it clean. In the time of Henepola, it had never been used, as it was planned to be sounded only when the castle was under siege. A single blast would warn Nissaya’s inhabitants that danger was afoot, beckoning them to return from their duties to the safety of the fortress.

The morning after Mala first emerged from the interior of Java, Kusala gazed eastward from atop Hakam. King Henepola X and Madiraa stood nearby, along with Indajaala, senior commander Palak, Yama-Utu, and a slew of other Nissayan officers and Tugars. The wall-walks of all three bulwarks were lined with defenders. To Kusala’s surprise, Henepola requested a special favor of the snow giant.

“It would be an honor,” the king said, “if you would perform this task for me.”

“But Father, Abala is meant for your lips alone,” Madiraa said, as amazed as the chieftain. “No others can make it sing. Are you not well this morning?”

“I feel stronger than ever,” the king said. “This is not a request made from weakness. Besides, I am not one for old wives’ tales. Abala will respond to anyone with enough air in his or her lungs. I beseech you, Yama-Utu, to sound the great horn.”

“You wish to send a message to Mala,” Kusala said.

“A message?” Henepola said. “That is one way of putting it.”

“I still don’t understand,” the princess said.

Utu came forward. “You will when I am finished.”

The snow giant stepped past the king and knelt before the horn. His thick lips seemed overlarge to accommodate Abala’s mouthpiece, but Kusala had noticed before that Utu could be surprisingly delicate when the need arose. Utu closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he pressed his lips against the mouth of the horn.

No one present, not even the king or Kusala, could have blown with such might. A note louder than a clap of thunder erupted from Abala’s bell.

WOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

All who stood near cried out, casting aside helms and clasping their hands to their ears. The sound rose and expanded.

. . . AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Even those on the second and first walls were overwhelmed, and many dropped to their knees and nearly swooned. The sonic vibrations roared outward, racing in all directions. For an impossibly long time, the snow giant maintained a titanic intensity. But it would not last forever. Finally, Abala could not bear the pressure, and a crack formed along its body and grew until the horn burst apart.

Utu stepped back, dismayed.

“I am sorry!” he said, his expression wild with grief. “I did not intend to destroy this marvelous instrument.”

This disturbed Henepola, but apparently not for the reason the snow giant might have feared.

“There is nothing to forgive,” the king said sadly. “It is our weakness that failed on this day, not your strength. Let us pray that the fortress itself will not prove as frail as its mouthpiece.”

Afterward, Kusala and the others stood in silence, gazing eastward. Throughout the rest of the day, a steady stream of knights, scouts, and civilians flowed into the first gate. By morning of the following day, the fields outside the first wall were eerily empty. At midmorning, the massive door of Balak began its ponderous descent.

By dusk, Nissaya was closed to the world.

“I’LL DISMOUNT HERE.”

“My liege?”

“Are you deaf?”

“No, my liege, but the height . . .”

“After I depart it would be wise for you to return to Avici. I don’t believe I’ll need you again, but if I do I’ll call.”

“My liege, I can’t leave you here . . .”

But Invictus was no longer listening. Despite being more than a thousand cubits above the mountaintop, the sorcerer leapt off the dracool’s back and floated downward, his golden robes spread like the petals of a marigold. Iriz snorted and dove to his rescue but soon realized that Invictus was in no danger. The sorcerer didn’t seem able to fly, but he was capable of falling slowly.

The dracool was terrified. She knew what had happened the last time Invictus walked into a cave on the peak of a mountain, and she had no desire to be anywhere near when it occurred again. But her curiosity overcame her trepidation, and she circled lower for one last look. The sorcerer stood on a balcony of ice, facing the entrance of a dark cave. The dracool could sense no magic emanating from within; in fact, she sensed nothing at all. But that made her more suspicious. Only a great dragon could so thoroughly mask the contents of the cave. Iriz attempted a psychic contact with Vedana to warn her, but the demon—usually accessible—was closed to her or simply not listening.

The sorcerer knelt and lifted something from the ice small enough to pinch between his thumb and forefinger. The strand of hair? Invictus tucked whatever it was inside a pocket of his robes. Then he strode forward without the slightest hesitation. Few beings other than Vedana would have dared to enter the suspected lair of Bhayatupa. But the sorcerer strolled into the dark maw as if it were the front door of a cheery tavern.

This frightened the dracool as much as the looming presence of Bhayatupa. Iriz had been a youngster when Ulaara the Black fled from the challenge of Bhayatupa. Now a creature half the size of a dracool entered the stronghold of the greatest of all dragons without fear.

Iriz did what she was told and flew toward Avici as fast as her leathery wings could carry her. Further attempts to contact the demon failed as well.

THOUGH BOTH THE sorcerer and dracool would have been surprised to hear it, Bhayatupa was not caught entirely off guard. A short time before, Vedana had read Iriz’s mind without her awareness and then warned the dragon that Invictus was coming. But Bhayatupa had chosen not to flee. He was
Mahaasupanna
! He could not tolerate the concept of retreat. Once and for all, the dragon would find out who was the greater. And this time, he would do it on his own turf. If he felt himself faltering, he could bring the entire mountain down on their heads and bury both of them beneath a million tons of rubble. And if that didn’t work, he had one final option: Vedana would be there to work her magic with two simple words designed to erase the dragon’s memories forever. The mentor would thwart the sorcerer yet again.

The passageway that led to his lair filled with a glowing light. Invictus had no need for stealth; he was overconfident to the point of absurdity. He might as well have been coming to catch a chameleon the length of his hand, not a dragon more than three hundred times his size. But Bhayatupa was no chameleon. Except for his one encounter with the sorcerer, he had never lost a battle against a single foe in more than eighty millennia. Invictus had surprised him the first time, but he wouldn’t now. Bhayatupa was ready.

VEDANA WAS READY too. She hid inside an open chest overflowing with black pearls, her demonic essence oozing within the spherical concretions like syrup. But she soon would have to flee her current hiding place. The treasure of Bhayatupa would not survive the cataclysm that was certain to occur.

Bhayatupa finally had agreed that her plan was the right one. The great dragon had seemed sad yet resigned. Vedana almost felt sorry for him.

“Is there no place to hide me in your realm?” Bhayatupa had said—not quite joking.

“It’s not big enough for the two of us,” Vedana said, attempting a laugh.

But the dragon only sighed. “I suppose not.”

“Look on the bright side,” Vedana responded. “There’s no guarantee you’ll lose. Perhaps Invictus will not prove your equal. Once he perishes, you and I will be free to pursue whatever we choose.”

“But you do not believe it,” the dragon said, his voice as deep as the rumblings of an earthquake.

“I believe that if anyone can defeat him, it is you,” Vedana said, her own sincerity surprising her.

“You will know when the time is right?”

“I am Vedana, mother of all demons. I will know. All you need do is accept—and the deed will be done.”

“
Yes
will be my answer,” Bhayatupa said. “But not until it is clear that I am otherwise doomed.”

AS INVICTUS WALKED down the passageway that led to Bhayatupa’s lair, he began to lose his temper. The crimson dragon seemed capable of making him angrier than anyone or anything else. Perhaps it was Bhayatupa’s constant bragging over his long life, or simply his blatant arrogance. Whatever the reasons, Invictus had never forgiven the dragon for his betrayal, and when he then had dared to call Invictus
Adho Satta
, he’d temporarily lost his mind.

“Fool! Any who stand against me will perish,” he remembered screaming. “I am
Akanittha
, highest of the high. I am GOD!”

And of course, he was.

Invictus knew things that only gods know. For instance, death was a lesser punishment than torture and enslavement. Excruciating pain could be used to mold the slave, much as he had used it to give rise to Mala. Soon Bhayatupa would join the Chain Man as one of his servants. Would they call him the Chain Lizard? Invictus couldn’t help but chuckle over that one, cooling his rage a little, but not enough to prevent him from accomplishing his mission, which was to make the dragon subservient. Who said that revenge wasn’t sweet? Sister Tathagata?
The
Torgon
? One of the pathetic snow giants? Soon all would bow before
Akanittha
, highest of the high.

Invictus was so deep in his musings he almost tripped and fell when he came to the end of the passageway. He entered a chamber as large as a palace, and it was filled with a strange mist that clouded his vision. With the barest of thoughts, Invictus increased the intensity of his emanations, and the mist evaporated.

Suddenly he could see Bhayatupa curled against the far wall, mountains of treasure surrounding him, his enormous eyes glowing with formidable might.

“Did you doubt that I would find you?” Invictus said.

“I cared naught.”

“And why might that be?”

“I am
Mahaasupanna
. I fear nothing.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“Nonetheless.”

To his surprise, Invictus was finding their tête-à-tête interesting, and it further cooled his rage. “Do you think you can possibly best me? If I remember correctly, it was
I
who prevailed the last time we crossed paths.”

“I was caught unawares.”

“Aware or not, it will not matter. None can stand against me—on Triken or beyond. I am
Akanittha
, highest of the high. How many times must I say it before you finally believe?”

“No matter your strength, compared to me you will always be
Adho Satta
.”

Invictus grunted. “I suppose, then, that I must
make
you believe. It’s a pity, in a way. If you had stood by me instead of betraying me, I would have promoted you to second in command, even above Mala. But now you will become my servant instead of my aide.”

“I think not.”

Almost faster than the eye could follow, the great dragon lifted his head high into the air and whipped it downward, his long neck cracking like thunder. Crimson fire erupted from his cavernous throat, bathing Invictus with gaseous flames. A stack of gold coins at his feet liquefied and pooled around his ankles. Then the very rock upon which he stood began to melt, and he sank into the molten stone to his knees. A stalactite as massive as a tree broke away from the ceiling and fell directly on Invictus’ head, splintering into a thousand spiraling shards. And still the dragon unleashed his flame, until the mountain itself began to quiver. Finally Bhayatupa halted his assault.

When the black smoke cleared, Invictus stood in a pool of cooling stone. He was unharmed. Even his golden robes remained intact, with only a few charred fringes.

Then he laughed, before yanking each foot out of the stone as easily as if it were dried mud. “You’ve ruined my slippers,” Invictus said.

The dragon knew then, if he had not already, that Invictus could not be destroyed. Bhayatupa’s last recourse was to attempt to bury Invictus alive.

“
Pabbataa, me vacanam karohi. Nipatahi ca sammaddahi te paccaamittam
! (Mountain, do my bidding. Fall and crush your enemy!)” Bhayatupa roared in the ancient tongue that Invictus knew so well.

An earthquake shook the mountain, and a huge crack immediately formed in the stone ceiling of the dragon’s lair, but before Bhayatupa could complete the spell, Invictus lifted his arms high above his head and splayed his hands. Goopy strands of molten light spurted from his fingertips, leapt up with blinding speed, and wrapped first around the dragon’s snout and wings and then his front and hind legs. In an instant, Bhayatupa was helplessly bound, and he tumbled onto his side, crashing upon his treasure with a boom.

“You wish to destroy your mountain?” Invictus said. “Though you can no longer speak the necessary words, the deed can still be done. Behold!”

The golden glow that emanated from Invictus’ flesh expanded with the force of an exploding star. The crack in the cavern’s ceiling split open as easily as the shell of an egg. Then the summit of the mountain blew apart, casting boulders as large as castles more than a league into the air. When the debris finally cleared, Bhayatupa lay upon the new summit and looked up at the sky, his treasure still intact, the precious metals and gems glittering merrily in the sunlight of a bright spring morning.

“Aaaaaah, on days like this, I love being me!” Invictus chirped, and then he clambered up the side of the dragon’s massive ribcage with the dexterity of a mountain goat. “Now for the
fun
part!”

Invictus cried out and lifted his arms again. Globs of golden energy sprang from the palms of his hands, danced momentarily in the air, and then swept down upon the treasure. The magical storm consumed the gems and jewels, rising, whirling, and finally condensing into a tornadic tumult of metal and stone, spinning so fast and hot that everything melted and blended together. It was beautiful and frightening. Magnificent and terrible. A god’s wrath come to fruition.

Then the tail of the liquid tornado lifted off the stone and touched down on the base of Bhayatupa’s neck. The dragon writhed and struggled like a beached whale, but Invictus’ magic held him in place. The whirlwind wrapped around the dragon’s neck, sizzling against his crimson scales and forming a long, glowing chain. Bhayatupa tried to scream, but his jaws were bound too tightly together. Flames burst from his nostrils and ears, and tears streamed from his eyes.

Ranting like a madman, Invictus remained standing on the dragon’s back.

Bolts of golden lightning burst from his eyes, scorching the heavens above.

AMONG THE SMOKE and ash that still swirled wildly in the air, a small cloud darker than all the rest poised over one of Bhayatupa’s glowing eyes. Vedana had fled the explosions just in time, and now she returned while her grandson remained entranced by his own glory. So typical of him.

“Are you ready?”

Bhayatupa could not speak, but he blinked—once.

Unable to resist putting on a show, Vedana transformed into her grandmotherly incarnation and stood on the dragon’s jaw. Then she screamed into his ear loud enough to attract Invictus’ attention.

“
Antaradhaayati, Sati
! (Disappear, Memory!)” she shouted. Then she vanished.

In response to her spell, the dragon’s eyes went dark—and then empty. Bhayatupa’s ancient memories had been permanently erased. There would be no torture. No enslavement. The Bhayatupa of old was no more. Now he was as stupid as a cow.